


If Death Knew How to Forgive

by VerdiWithin



Series: Talisman [53]
Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25764778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdiWithin/pseuds/VerdiWithin
Summary: The situation in the Mortal Realm continues to worsen. Hades and Persephone’s relationship is under stress.
Relationships: Eros/Psyche (Lore Olympus), Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus), Hera/Zeus (Lore Olympus)
Series: Talisman [53]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1497371
Comments: 28
Kudos: 193





	If Death Knew How to Forgive

**Author's Note:**

> Previously in this series: 
> 
> Persephone and Hades have moved temporarily to an apartment downtown while renovations happen on their house. The Mortal Realm is reeling under the effects of Demeter’s Winter, and Persephone is working herself to exhaustion trying to heal people and provide food. Hades has a priest, Serapis. Persephone gave Thanatos’s godhead to his daughter, Achlys. Some time ago, Persephone caught Thetis and proved that she had been drugging Zeus. Zeus is pushing Eileithyia to marry Hermes.

The buzzer sounds, first thing in the morning. This is the fourth day in a row, so I know by now exactly what this is. I leap out of bed and hush the dogs, who want to run baying at the door, but I don’t want them disturbing Persephone. It’s Saturday and she should sleep in if she can.

I belt my robe tightly before yanking the door open to find five flower nymphs standing in the elevator lobby, beaming at me. They immediately begin giggling.

“Good morning, ladies,” I say. There’s no point being rude to them.

“Is Persephone home?” The lead one asks. She’s carrying a large basket, full to the brim with glistening red berries.

“Yes, but she’s sleeping.”

They all look terribly disappointed. “Oh, she never sleeps this late!” one exclaims.

“She’s working too hard,” I explain. “Is that basket for her? I’ll make sure she gets it.”

“Yes! We brought her berries from Elysium!” the lead nymph says. “They grow so beautifully there!” 

I’ve heard this explanation on each of the three previous days. Maybe from different nymphs, I’m not sure. “Yes, they do. Listen, tomorrow, maybe you should send the berries you pick to the mortals? They could use the food.”

“Oh, but--we want to show Kore, I mean Persephone, how grateful we are!”

“We would freeze without her!”

Perhaps if Persephone herself tells them, later, they’ll actually listen. “Fine, I’ll tell her when she gets up.”

“Oh, Kore!” One of the nymphs cries, pointing.

Persephone is standing in the hallway behind me, rubbing her eyes and looking sleep-rumpled. She’s barefoot, and wearing the top half of the pink-and-white pajamas Zeus gave me, which she confiscated immediately upon seeing. It’s cute as hell on her--makes her look small and cozy. I don’t even mind wearing the bottoms when she wants to match.

“Good morning, friends. You brought us more berries?”

“Yes! They grow so thick down by the lake you made. Here!” 

The nymph hands over the basket and Persephone pats her shoulder affectionately. 

“Thank you, Iasis. It’s very kind.” Her voice is raspy from sleep and accumulated fatigue. 

Persephone firmly ushers the nymphs out, and they promise to bring her more fruit, despite her protests. When she shuts the door behind them, she shakes her head ruefully at me.

“I don’t think they want to hear that you already have enough berries,” I comment.

“I know. They’re desperate to be useful. I’ll keep a few and bring the rest with me for the mortals.” 

I assume she means to go to the Mortal Realm today and work until she falls down in exhaustion, as usual. I intend to go with her. I don’t have the particular skill sets that are most useful, but I can pitch in.

“Is this what it was like for you growing up? Nymphs on top of you day and night?”

“Pretty much.” She turns to go to the kitchen and I follow.

“I’m so sorry, Sweetness. That must have been annoying.”

“Yeah. They mean well, but it got to be too much.”

I hope  _ I’m _ not too much. Is she trying to say she needs time away from me today?

“We have those dinner plans with Eros and Psyche tonight. Are you still planning to be there?” I ask.

“Of course I am! I can’t miss that. It’s past time we gave them their wedding present.”

She bends down to pet Russell and Pomelia, whose tails are wagging in ecstasy at seeing her. She’s barely been home except to sleep, all week long.

“What would you like for breakfast?” I’m hoping she’ll let me cook for her. Mostly she’s been grabbing something to take with her and leaving as early as possible.

She looks up from the dogs and smiles at me. “Can you make fried eggs, please, Smush? I like the way you make them.”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

***

Persephone consents to wait until I’m ready, and we transfer to the Mortal Realm together. We arrive right in the middle of a crisis of moaning people, and she rushes off to start healing. I watch for a minute. There’s not much I can do for living mortals, beyond ensuring the flow of sustenance and supplies. Which is starting to prove difficult.

It’s only about two months into this cold season and food stocks are already running low. I suspect there’s a lot of quiet hoarding going on. I bring the basket of berries to the refectory tent and hand it over to the staff. It won’t last long, with so many mouths to feed.

This place that’s now called Eleusis is truly beautiful, and I take a moment to enjoy it before starting work. It’s a steep-sided hill with a broad, flat top, plenty big enough to accommodate the dozen or so large tents that have been assembled here for various purposes. The views are amazing: vineyard-covered hills, forests, and mountains to the North; the rolling Thriasian plains to the West and East; and a picturesque village next to the wide Saronic Gulf to the South. As I stand gazing out, the sharp wind seems to cut right through me, making me shiver. How cold has it gotten, if even I can feel it?

I put these unproductive thoughts aside and go to my makeshift desk: a plank supported by two sections of log, situated under a tarp awning next to the path from the village. Anyone arriving has to pass my station. I get to work fielding logistics to keep this place running.

I have a lot of connections and know how to slash red tape, so I’m able to provide real value in my self-appointed role of quartermaster. I spend a couple hours ensuring that supplies will keep flowing to Eleusis, at least for the next week. This requires a not-insignificant amount of money, but I don’t care. What else is it for?

Artemis spots me as she’s leaving the compound and comes over to my desk, her bow drooping from her hand, her shoulders slumped. 

“You’re taking care of her, right? I mean, I know you are. I know you love her,” she says, babbling a bit and waving one hand. I know she’s not used to talking about stuff like this, particularly with me.

‘I’m doing my best. She’s determined to give everything she has, though.”

“Yeah. All of this, it’s just. It hurts her so much,” her eyes are sad and pleading. “I’m so pissed with Demeter.”

“I know. Did she ever end up coming after you?”

"Nah. I guess she's fixated on you, and maybe she knows I wouldn't take any crap from her. Not anymore."

She nods at me, and I nod back. Both of us acknowledging that this situation really sucks.

“Do you have any idea where Demeter might be hiding her grain stores?” I ask. Artemis gets around. If anyone would have a chance to find more food, it’s her.

“No, but I’m keeping my eyes peeled, I promise. I’ve got a bunch of nymphs looking, too.”

“Okay. Good luck with your hunting.”

She nods and takes off, trotting down the hill. I get back to work.

***

At mid-morning I descend the hill, feeling a bit nervous. I pass the tiny shrine to Persephone and me, and notice that the base is heaped with flowers, carved bits of wood, and lit candles. I shake my head in wonder as I walk toward the village. I can’t get over this change in my fortune. 

Despite their newfound deference, mortals are still nervous in my presence, particularly the newcomers. The ones working at Eleusis and living in the nearby village have gotten used to the constant presence of immortal beings, but I’m another thing. I wish Persephone could come with me this morning; she often seems to soothe much of their fear. 

I pass the first of the rustic houses and notice many people looking at me, but they don’t react dramatically. A few nod or bow, but most ignore me politely. I can handle that. I’m sure it wouldn’t be nearly enough deference for Zeus, but for me, it’s a pleasant change.

The far end of the main village square is a hub of activity. A huge pile of dressed stone stands ready to be added to the foundations of two large buildings, side-by-side. I know what they are, but it’s very hard for me to think about this without getting emotional. The possibility of worship, at this stage in my life, is quite potent. I have a new understanding of why others find it so addictive.

A mortal man comes dashing toward me from the side of the square, and throws himself at my feet. “Great lord, I am honored by your presence!” he cries.

I look him over. He’s a middle-aged mortal, dusky-skinned and sleek in appearance. He looks like he’s never gone hungry. I don’t really recognize him, but I know who he is. He was a perfume merchant in Corinth, and he was rude to Persephone.

It’s not difficult to make my voice stern. “The first thing we need to establish, mortal man, is that if you're going to represent me, you can’t treat women the way I saw when last we met. Everyone deserves equal respect.”

“Yes, great lord! So your lady wife said. I have thrown myself into serving her priestess. I have obeyed her every directive, and I raised the money for your temples here.”

I nod cautiously. I’ve already heard assessments of this man’s dedication from Eunelia, Iakchos, Persephone, and the Furies. They agree that he sincerely wants to serve me. For reasons I  _ really _ can’t fathom.

"I'm told you want to be my priest. I want to know why."

His face is suffused with some emotion I can't even name, but it's something akin to the look Eunelia gives to Persephone. I guess this is reverence? "Great lord, the day I met you my eyes were opened, when I had formerly stumbled blind through life. Your mercy to me reminded me of what all mortalkind owes to the gods. You are at the end of all things. All men will serve you in time, whether they will it or not."

"That is true."

"If I shall serve you in my death--I may as well begin to serve you now, when I may do more good and distinguish myself in your eyes."

"I see." I didn't expect to find both him and his argument compelling. It's probably his passion more than anything that moves me. "You're aware that I've never had a priest before? I'm not entirely sure what to do with you."

He nods. "Yes, great one. With your permission, I shall take advice from other servants of the gods, and consider myself an apprentice to your lady wife's high priestess."

"That's acceptable. And if I'm not available, you'll take instruction from Persephone."

"Of course!"

"Fine. Well, carry on, then… Serapis." I'll have to try harder to remember his name. It wouldn't do to forget my own priest.

When I return to the hill I notice a small group of people outside the tents, seated around the fire pit. Persephone is there with her friends, all of them eating fruit and drinking from cups. Eileithyia is passing a container, which looks like something homemade she brought along. Psyche makes a comment and the Furies all laugh. I decide not to intrude on them. If nothing else, at least this situation is giving Persephone a chance to spend time with her friends. I get back to my task. This place sucks down supplies like a hungry drakon, and I don’t want anything running low. 

When noontime comes, the refectory tent fills up quickly. I look for Persephone but I’m told that she’s busy assisting Eileithyia with a difficult birth. I take a quick peek in the small tent set aside for birthing and new mothers. A mortal woman is hunched on a stool, her back to me, with Eileithyia kneeling in front of her. Persephone and Psyche hold the woman’s hands, and I feel the tingle of Persephone’s power flowing. I guess she must be actively healing.

I make a quick exit before anyone spots me. It would be embarrassing to be caught like that, but honestly, I was merely curious. I look around for the Furies, or Artemis, or Hermes, Eros, or even Iakchos. There’s no one here at the moment that I know. I get a sandwich from the refectory and take it back to the spring to sit on the rocks. I eat my lunch quickly, so I can get back to work. There’s no sense sitting around consuming resources that others need far more than I do.

Having set the supply situation in good order, I devote the afternoon to identifying gaps in the staffing requirements here. The flow of mortals asking for help only increases, and more workers are needed. It’s unfortunate that finding more beings with healing abilities is not possible.

“Hello, sir,” says a diffident voice.

I look up from my desk and see a pale, slight goddess, her steel-gray wings held proudly open behind her back.

“Hello, Achlys,” I reply. I feel a terrible chill. “Are you here on business?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” she says, with a solemn nod. 

“May I attend, or will that cramp your style?”

Her eyes light with pride. “Nothing would please me more than to show you.”

I gesture for her to lead the way, and she steps into the complex of tents with the sureness of instinct. Her newly-placed power guides her to the small birthing tent and I suck in a breath. Inside, we find the mortal woman I saw earlier, bundled in blankets, asleep and holding her swaddled child in the crook of her arm.

“The mother, or the child?” I ask, barely a whisper. I hope it’s not both, though of course I know how frequently that happens.

“The mother,” Achlys replies. She can’t take her eyes from her target. She’s trembling with the need to do her duty.

There’s no one else present in the tent. Persephone, Psyche, and Eileithyia must have thought the woman was well enough to be left alone. I feel terrible about this. They will feel so betrayed.

“Can you wait a moment? Persephone should be here,” I ask.

Achlys is straining to hold herself back, her hands glowing with a powerful light. “I’m so sorry, sir! It has to be now!”

Her hand darts out and she touches the mother’s forehead. Her fingers seem to stick to the mortal woman’s skin and pull it away, but that’s not what’s happening. She’s pulling the shade right out of the woman’s body. The mortal gives a soft, lengthy sigh as the soul departs. In a moment, the shade stands before Achlys and me, blinking at us in surprise.

“That’s it? My pain is over?”

“Yes. Your time in the Mortal Realm is complete,” says Achlys, her eyes full of compassion.

“Have you any family?” I ask. I’m thinking of the child, and what is to be done for it.

“No,” the shade says. “My husband died weeks ago. I have no one else.”

“Perhaps you will be reunited with him. That decision must wait for your judgment, however.”

“What of my son?”

“I’ll see to it that he’s fostered. Make sure he gets a good start.”

The woman nods, a little sadly. “Poor little thing.”

I pick up the infant from the arms of the mother’s cooling corpse. I can only agree with her. It is a poor little thing.

“Come, your afterlife waits for you,” Achlys says. 

“Just a moment,” I say. I dig into the pouch under my chiton with my free hand. I find an obol and hand it to the shade. “For Charon.”

The shade regards me suspiciously. “I thank you, good sir.”

Achlys wraps the woman in her wings and the two of them disappear. I cradle the tiny child against my chest. He’s wrapped up warm but I have no idea how frequently mortal babies need to eat. 

I exit the tent, blinking in the bright light. My niece is just passing, busy on her way somewhere. She stops when she sees me. “Oh, no. The mother?”

“She’s gone. I’m sorry.”

Eileithyia sighs. “It happens that way, sometimes. Persephone’s going to take it hard. She hasn’t come to terms with it yet, but sometimes you heal a mortal, and it’s not enough. They just have nothing left to keep them going.”

I nod. “I promised the shade that I would see her son cared for.”

“I know the perfect place. I had a birth yesterday where the baby didn’t survive. I think that mother will be very glad to have him. May I take him?”

Gratefully I hand the infant over. “Please let me know where? I want to be certain he has what he needs.”

She smiles. “Of course, Uncle.”

I go to find Persephone. I’ve haven’t spoken to her all day, and now it’s my duty to bring her bad news.

***

We arrive at the restaurant where we frequently eat with Eros and Psyche, a favorite of us all. It’s a little neighborhood place in Olympus where the food is good and the atmosphere quiet. Our friends are already waiting at our usual table, sipping drinks. 

“Hey, there you are!” Eros says. “We were starting to wonder.”

“My fault!” Persephone and I say together. We look at one another in surprise, and laugh as we sit down.

“It’s totally my fault. I insisted on driving. I don’t get to do that much right now and I miss it.”

“It’s sweet of you to take the blame. I lost track of time at Eleusis,” Persephone explains. “And then the dogs were so happy to see us I got distracted again.” She smooths her dress and touches her hair, which still looks a little damp from her whirlwind shower.

“It is not a problem,” Psyche says. “I do not think you are even that late.”

Eros grins. “How can monarchs be late, anyway? It just turns out that we were early.”

Persephone looks startled and I scowl. “That’s the sort of privilege I’ve always tried not to use. But thank you both,” I say.

After we order, Persephone flows right into gracious conversation-enabling mode. “Eros, I get to see Psyche all the time, but not you so much. What have you been up to?”

“Oh, well! Business is slow, you know? People aren’t all that interested in finding a love match at the moment.”

Under the table, Persephone’s hand brushes mine. I take hers and squeeze it, lacing our fingers together.

“He is too modest,” Psyche comments. “He has been out visiting mortal places, finding those who need help and telling them where to get what they need.”

“Yeah, I wish certain others would pitch in. It’s really short-sighted to say that famine and cold won't touch your domain, and skip out on the responsibility, ya know?” Eros carps, rolling his eyes.

I nod. “Yes, exactly. This is the time for all of us to work together.” Look at me, I’ve achieved one worshipper and suddenly I’m an authority on protecting the mortal population.

Persephone sighs softly and the rest of us pause, aware of her distress. Eros and Psyche exchange a glance. 

“Hera wishes the portrait sitting to begin Monday, did she tell you?” Psyche says.

“Oh, believe me, she’s made it one hundred percent clear that we’re expected to be there, and no excuses,” I reply. 

Eros snorts a laugh, completely understanding how forceful his grandmother can be.

“So you’ve finished your mural commissions?” Persephone asks. 

“Yes. The University and the hospital murals are both complete,” Psyche says. She glances at me but doesn’t say anything further. 

The restaurant owner comes over and pours our wine. We make a little chit-chat with him, since he’s used to us, and becoming friendly. I find this both odd and delightful.

“Eros, do you know if Hera followed through with her plan for Thetis?” I ask once the owner departs to attend other patrons.

“Yeah, I went to the wedding. Hera chose a mortal for her, and Thetis wasn’t happy about it.”

Psyche’s mouth tightens, and Persephone looks away. 

“It isn’t right for Hera to use marriage as a punishment,” I say. My voice is low and I’m angrier than I realized at first. 

“No, it’s not,” Eros agrees. “But who’s gonna argue with her? It  _ is _ her domain, and Thetis definitely wronged her in a major way.”

“She said that she was going to ask you to make them fall in love?” Persephone asks.

“Yeah. And I did, and they  _ are _ \--but the thing is, Hera made me wait until  _ after _ the ceremony was complete. It was sickening.”

“Oh, but,” Psyche begins. She looks at her husband, then down. “At least they are happy now?”

“Yes. When I left they were pretty besotted with each other.”

“Who’s the mortal?” I ask.

“Erm, what was his name. Some mortal king, not a young guy. Peleus, I think?”

“Oh, he was a guest at our wedding,” Psyche says. “My father knows him. He is a kind man.”

“More than Thetis deserves,” Persephone muses. She looks like she has very mixed feelings about this. I can’t blame her.

We all conspire to speak only of light topics through the meal. When we've finished, Persephone and I have planned a surprise. I pay the bill while Persephone accepts a box from the proprietor, and ushers our friends outside. They're all standing on the sidewalk, squawking in mild protest when I join them.

"Come on, we're going for a ride." I gesture toward the car.

Psyche and Eros exchange a glance and then look at Persephone and me, looking smug.

"Okay, but this better not turn into something creepy," Eros says.

"You should be so lucky," Persephone says. "Get in!"

The ride is short--really, we could have walked, but that would have allowed our friends too much chance to guess. I park and we step out of the car. It's a quiet street, lined with big, handsome brick buildings that used to be factories years ago. These days they're being converted into offices and such.

"Why are we here?" Eros asks. "There's no new nightclub I haven't heard of, is there?"

"Certainly not," Persephone replies. "What club would dare to open without your knowledge?"

"I don't like to spread it around, but I have a number of investments in Olympus,” I say. I gesture to encourage our friends to approach the nearest door. “When these old factories went out of business, I bought them. I liked the buildings. This particular investment wasn't so great--they've been sitting idle for years. It's only recently that fashion has dictated that this sort of thing is 'in.'"

"Wow, this is fascinating," Eros snarks. "More than I ever wanted to know about real estate."

Psyche pokes him for his rudeness and Persephone and I exchange grins. I take the cake box from her and hand her the key.

"Come along, you two. You're going to like this." She unlocks the big door and steps inside, then turns on the lights. The space inside is huge and echoey, with brick walls and multiple skylights admitting the orange glow of sunset. 

We all follow her inside and I watch our friends looking around. The sound of our feet is the only thing heard. One corner of the large room is set up as a kitchen/lounge. Persephone heads there and opens the little refrigerator, removing one of the bottles of champagne we stashed here earlier. She holds it out to Psyche.

"Welcome to your new studio," she says.

Eros claps his hand over his mouth and Psyche gasps.

"Oh! My friends!" she cries.

"It's a wedding present," I say, setting down the cake box. "And don't say no, please. The space was empty, and now the building will be a haven for art, because of you."

"Because of… me?" Psyche whispers. 

"Yes. We're bringing in a whole community of artists," Persephone tells her.

Psyche beams at us even as her tears fall. She opens both arms and pulls Persephone and me in for a hug. Eros can't resist this, and piles on as well. The four of us stand there for an awkward minute, giggling and sniffling.

"Thank you both, from the bottom of my heart!" Psyche says. "This is beyond generous!"

I shake my head. "Nonsense. A great artist needs space! You were stifled there in that tiny porch."

Psyche smiles and looks down. She knows what I mean, and why she needs the space.

"Can I open that champagne?" Eros says. "'Cause otherwise, I'm gonna ugly-cry."

"We can't have that!" Persephone laughs, and hands him the bottle.

It ends up as the smallest and most enjoyable party I've ever attended. We have champagne and cake, and Eros puts some music on his phone. We turn down the lights and dance under the moonlight streaming through the roof windows. From time to time we switch partners, all of us joking and laughing.

Psyche and I take a break on the battered couch near the kitchen area, and open the second bottle of champagne. Off in the dim recesses of the room, I hear Persephone and Eros climbing the little spiral staircase up to the loft. I wonder what’s up there, but I’m not curious enough to explore.

“I cannot express to you how grateful I am for this, my friend,” Psyche says. “I know it is little to you, but it is huge to me.”

“What the two of you have been, to Persephone and to me--nothing could repay that. This is the least we can do.”

“You do not expect enough of your friends, you know. Or your family.”

“I learned early that family can turn on you.”

“Yes, that is so, sometimes. But if you have no expectations then they cannot disappoint you. And that disappointment is the worst betrayal of all."

I gasp a breath. "I really ought to be paying you for insight like that. You're better than my therapist."

Psyche's eyes widen. "Once again, I say you should raise your expectations."

I hear our partners descending again, bantering together about shadows and things glimpsed in the dark. "I'm learning that. It's hard, but I'm learning."

Persephone approaches our pool of light, still giggling over a joke Eros made, and steals a sip from my glass. She sets it down and takes my hand. "Dance with me?" Her eyes are imploring.

"It would be my very great pleasure." 

We glide our way around the dark corners of the studio, comfortable in our silence. I’m pretty sure this is the most relaxed Persephone’s been all week, probably longer. I can’t help responding to that. Holding her in my arms, moving to the tinny, distant music--contentment creeps over me. I know it’s temporary. I know it’s stolen at the expense of mortal lives. I’m compassionate enough to be concerned for that, and selfish enough to try to put it from my mind. 

I wonder what Persephone is thinking. Her head is on my shoulder, her hand in mine, her other hand holding my shoulder. I shouldn’t ask. She deserves a little stolen joy, too.

“Oh, they’ve forgotten we’re still here,” she whispers. 

I look to see what she means. Eros and Psyche are making out on the couch, deeply involved in one another. "We should go.”

Persephone leaves the studio keys on the counter and exchanges a little wave with our friends before they turn back to one another. We sneak out together into the night, hand in hand.

***

Bright and early Monday morning, Hecate comes in with her daily report. I’m in a cheerful mood after a pleasant evening the night before, spent snuggling with my wife.

"Good morning, Hecate. Did I tell you, I have a priest? And he's building a temple for me? And there's already a shrine to me and Persephone near her base of operations?" I can barely contain my excitement.

My old friend smiles in quiet satisfaction. "It's about time. I told Persephone months ago that she was going to redefine worship patterns, but she didn't believe me."

I smile. "When you think about it, a lot of what she's accomplished isn't believable."

She snorts a laugh. "That's what you get for underestimating her."

“You are so right. I need to stop doing that.”

Hecate nods, and looks at her πPad. She frowns. “Unfortunately, it looks like the death rate is rising dramatically, and given the reports I’m hearing from the Mortal Realm, it’s likely to keep going up. I know Persephone is doing a lot of good work there, but there’s only so much one goddess can do.”

I swallow down the bitter taste of failure. How could I forget, just because I’m getting a temple? “The situation is very bad.”

“Should I… keep this from Persephone, do you think?”

“Of course not!” I understand Hecate’s instinct, but I can’t keep secrets from Persephone. Even things like this that will cause her pain.

Hecate looks chagrined. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. It just seems like all this is wearing her down to the bone. It’s not healthy for her.”

Somehow knowing other people can see it too is a stab in my chest. I swallow hard, and try to focus. “What’s next on your list?”

“Well,” Hecate looks like she’s trying to frame something that’s going to upset me. “I’ve been studying this plant--”

My phone buzzes aggressively and I look at the screen. It's a text from Alecto. 

"Shit, this is bad. There was a huge storm, and a lot of mortals are dead. I have to go."

The door bursts open and Epimelis is standing there, several other staff members behind him. “Sir! Sir! There’s a massive influx of shades arriving!”

“I’ll deal with this end,” Hecate says. “You go.”

I nod and transfer away.

***

Persephone is sitting on a rock below the spring that’s embedded in the hill of Eleusis. She’s hugging her knees, crumpled and miserable, shaking and silent. The Furies surround her, touching her, making sounds of sympathy and distress. They don’t know how to help.

I don’t either. Not really. I can’t stop the deaths.

I approach quickly, and Alecto and Tisiphone notice. They take a step back, their relief obvious. It takes Megaera a little longer to extract herself, as she’s hugging Persephone tightly. I pick up my wife and set her in my lap. I hold her close and she clings to me, her tears breaking free in panting sobs.

“It’s been a hard morning,” she says finally, trying to stop her sniffles.

“So I heard, Sweetness.” I kiss the top of her head and wait.

She doesn’t say anything more for a long time. I rock her, comb her hair with my fingers, rub her back. I wrap my cloak around her to still her shivering. I don’t say anything either.

“This is all my fault!” she wails suddenly. “Hundreds of people are dead, and it’s my fault!”

“Hush love, it’s Demeter’s fault. Not yours at all.”

“It’s because of me! They’re dead because of me!”

“My father swallowed me due to the prophecy that I would help overthrow him. Does that mean it was my fault he did that?”

“N-no… No! Of course it wasn’t!”

I wait for her to draw the conclusion. This is something we’ve been practicing in therapy. After a couple of minutes she sighs. 

“Okay. Maybe it’s not, completely. But I have the power to stop it.”

“I suppose that’s true. But you are not a sacrificial lamb. It is not Demeter’s right to demand your life in propitiation.”

"Then we need to find another way to stop her. This can't go on." She sighs and gives me a brief kiss, then straightens up. "I need to get back to work. I'll see you later, for the portrait sitting?"

"Okay." 

Reluctantly I let her go, and stand watching her return to the healing tent. She's right. This can't go on.

***

I enter my brother’s house in an aggressive mood, stomp down the parquet hallway, and slam into the reception room. I find Hera there, sitting by the window. She has a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and she’s dressed in a long green gown trimmed with peacock feathers, and her tallest crown. Across from her sits Hestia, with her own drink. Both goddesses look pissed as hell.

“What the fuck crawled up Demeter’s ass and died?” I yell. 

They turn toward me. “Hello, Hades. Did you have your own encounter? We had lunch with her,” Hestia says.

“You actually saw her? I went there in the spirit of our long association, to ask her,  _ ask  _ her mind you,  _ politely, _ if she would  _ please _ come visit the Underworld and see for herself how happy Persephone is. And she wouldn’t even see me! She sent some underling to sneer at me!”

“And this surprises you for some reason?” Hera asks. 

“All I want is to know what she wants out of all this! She has to have something in mind.”

“She wants her daughter back. Permanently. She made that very clear to us.” Hera's expression mixes anger and sympathy.

“She wants you in chains, too,” Hestia puts in.

“This is insanity! She can’t acknowledge Persephone has the right to choose her own future?”

“Sure she could, right up to the point that Persephone chose something different from what Demeter wants,” Hera snarks, waving her cigarette.

“This isn’t how we were raised!” Hestia snaps. “Metis always trusted us to make our own decisions. She pushed us to grow and try new things, to learn to be independent. I would never have been able to find my own path without that support--how can Demeter subvert that?”

“Do you think Metis talking to her could help?” I ask.

“How?” Hera says. “Demeter is convinced she’s doing the right thing, that Persephone is being tricked and exploited. She flat-out called you--well, never mind. We told her she was wrong, but she’s not listening to anyone.”

I shiver with revulsion. I’m sure I know what Demeter called me.

"She's convinced that you're going to cheat on Persephone, if you haven't already," says Hera. Her eyes burn with rage.

"Of  _ course _ she thinks that," I rasp. With my brothers' examples before her eyes, why would she think otherwise?

“Well, I’d better go. I have tasks to do,” Hestia says. She stands and kisses Hera’s cheek, then nods to me. 

I take her vacated chair, fuming. My crown is giving me a headache. 

“Drink?” Hera asks, holding up her own.

“No. Thank you. If I get started I won’t want to stop. Where is everyone?”

“You’re early. They’ll be here soon.”

We sit in morose silence for a few minutes, thinking our own thoughts, until Poseidon and Amphitrite come in. He’s wearing his formal uniform and crown, just as I am, and Amphitrite has on a silver gown with pearls. We’re still exchanging greetings when Zeus enters the room, also in uniform and crown. 

“Hey, can we get this thing going? I haven’t got all day,” he says.

“Persephone’s not here yet,” I tell him. “She was coming directly from the Mortal Realm.”

“We can still get ready,” Hera says. She shoos everyone into the next room. A giant backdrop has been set up covering one wall, and there are lights on stands. Psyche has a huge canvas set up in front of this area, and there’s a photographer, moving around taking reference shots.

Hera tells everyone where to stand. I’m in the center, with Amphitrite and Poseidon to my left. Zeus stands on my right, looking bored, and Hera fusses with details until Psyche stops her with a beaming smile. 

“Oh, your Majesty, that gown is stunning. Will you stand here with your husband? I must make sure the light hits you just right!”

Hera is taken aback, but Psyche gauged the flattery perfectly. The Queen of the Gods smiles and consents to take her place. 

“I’m here. I’m sorry I’m late!” 

Persephone enters the room at a trot, flustered and tense, her eyes hollow with fatigue, and nevertheless heart-stoppingly lovely. She’s wearing the gown she wore for the Underworld coronation party, the one her designer intended to be for our wedding. It’s floor length and white, with an attached cape lined in dark blue. There are embroidered roses and pomegranates all over the bodice. I think it’s exquisite, and perfect for this occasion. 

I go to greet her and bend down for a kiss, careful to avoid the spikes of her crown and not let mine hurt her. I meant to just give her a formal peck, since everyone’s watching, but she melts against my lips, and her hands grip my uniform.

“Hi,” I murmur when she releases me. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too. I’m so sorry I’m late!” Her voice is pitched just for my ears.

“Don’t worry about it. There’s a bunch of preliminary nonsense to get through, you haven’t missed anything important.”

“You’re just in time, Persephone,” Hera calls, confirming my assertion. “If you take your place we can get started.”

I take her hand and lead her back to our spot, the focus of this damned circus. I stand facing straight forward, while Persephone is placed at a right angle to me, twisting slightly to face the artist. I call my bident to me and hold it vertically behind her. My other hand rests on her elbow. 

I have conflicting emotions about this portrait. On the one hand, it’s  _ finally _ my turn. I get to be the center of attention, receive admiration from everyone because of the wonderful goddess I have managed to win for my own. On the other--the timing is awful. All of us ought to be out working for the mortals instead of standing around being useless. 

It’s obvious to me that the composition of this painting has already been negotiated in detail between Hera and Psyche. I watch our friend flitting around, placing everyone just so, adjusting lights, standing in various spots studying the tableau to be certain it meets her artistic vision. Hera calls a suggestion every few minutes, each of which is politely acknowledged, and just as politely ignored. I glance at Persephone and we exchange tiny smiles. She sees it too. Psyche is normally the most diffident and sweet person, but she won’t take even Hera’s interference with her art.

Since we’re the centerpiece of this picture, the greater part of Psyche’s scrutiny goes to us. She approaches several times, to adjust the drape of Persephone’s long, trailing cape, or turn my head slightly, or try a different position for Persephone’s left hand, resting on my chest. All the while, the photographer moves around, snapping pictures.

Psyche stands at her easel studying us all for some minutes. She doesn’t seem to blink or move the whole time. When she finally nods in satisfaction and begins to work, we all breathe tiny sighs of relief.

Having been through this rigmarole innumerable times, my brothers and sisters-in-law know the score. The gossiping and character assassination begins immediately. It’s moderately entertaining but Persephone is shocked. Her eyes widen and she looks at me without turning her head.

“It’s okay to talk?” she whispers.

“Sure. Especially right now, she’s just getting the rough outlines today. The general shape.”

“Oh. Any idea how long this will take?”

“Weeks, likely. Although we won’t have to be here all that time. Psyche said she can do a section at a time, so we don’t have to coordinate all our schedules for every session.”

“That’s good. I don’t see how it would be possible.”

It  _ would _ be possible, because what Hera wants, Hera gets, but Persephone does have a point. We all have more essential things to be doing.

It’s easy to settle into a mindless repose. I keep my eyes on Psyche, watching her work. I maintain my expression of serene happiness. I’m aware of the blather of the others, but I tune it out. I’d rather concentrate on Persephone’s light scent of honey and flowers, her warm body so close, her hands resting lightly on me. 

I let my mind wander, thinking over recent events. It’s only been a few months since Persephone and I admitted our feelings, and now she’s my wife. She’s a breathtaking goddess, strong and powerful, but gentle and giving, too. She’s not like anyone else I’ve ever known. I have to stop gauging my expectations for her based on past history. The only experience I have that matters is the experiences we’ve had together. It’s a deeply odd thought, trying to discard centuries of learned responses. It’s like being reborn, I suppose.

A soft, familiar sound distracts me from my thoughts. The buzzing of Persephone’s snores. Her eyes are closed and her lips slightly parted, but she hasn’t moved. She’s asleep on her feet. My poor darling. 

I gently tighten my grip on her elbow. Persephone starts, looking up at me with surprise. “Sorry,” she whispers.

I nod back. Around me, the others are silent. I’m sure they noticed.

***

It’s not unusual these days for Persephone to stay late at Eleusis. As long as there are people who need her, she will keep working. I’ve had lengthy discussions with the Furies about taking proper care of her, how to encourage her to rest, and when to call me to intervene. They haven’t contacted me today, so I have to assume everything is all right. I don’t want to hover and be annoying. 

I pass my time instead with dog care and cooking, then give the apartment a quick cleaning. When it gets late I prepare for bed. I’m concerned, but I can’t let myself act on it. My wife is a busy and powerful young goddess. Either she’s working hard, or she’s getting some much-needed relaxation time. No matter which, she doesn’t need my anxious old ass bothering her. I’m lying in bed, fretting, when I hear her in the hallway. Her voice sounds odd. I get up and go to check.

Persephone is sitting on the floor, her cloak puddled around her. Several of the dogs are cuddled with her, panting cheerfully. She looks up at me, and there are tears in her eyes.

“I had a lot to drink!” she hollers, sniffling and hiccuping at the same time. “The Furies came to Eleusis with a big bottle of wine and I drank most of it myself!”

I repress a smile. She’s certainly drunk, and not controlling her volume. “It’s all right, Sweetness. Everybody needs a bit of oblivion sometimes.”

I kneel down with her and she opens her arms to me. “Will you help me? I can’t walk properly anymore.”

“Anytime.” I pick her up, glad that she’s not so drunk she can’t talk. With any luck the effects in the morning won’t be too dramatic.

I help her put on her warmest pajamas, the ones decorated with sleepy animals and stars. I carry her to bed, to snuggle and hold her, to take my comfort from her continued presence.

***

I’m up early. I wait at the door for the inevitable berry delivery, and then I take the dogs out for a quick run. When I return, I’m delighted to find Persephone is still asleep. Rather than disturb her by bumping around in the bathroom, I go to the kitchen and assemble a lunch bag for her. I know she can get reasonable food in the refectory tent, but I want to do it myself. When that’s done, I chop vegetables and stir up some eggs so I can make a good breakfast when she gets up.

I’m just considering whether I should wake her when she skids into the kitchen, dressed in a peplos and carrying her cloak.

“I’m late!” she gasps. “Have we got any of those breakfast bars left? I need to go!”

She looks exhausted, her hair all sticking out and her eyes lined with dark shadows. I feel an irrational surge of anger.

“You’re not going!” I snap.

A rapid succession of emotions plays across Persephone’s face: surprise, betrayal, anger. She draws breath to speak, but I interrupt.

“Not until you’ve had a hot breakfast?”

Persephone examines my expression carefully, and lets go of her indignation. “Okay.”

Everything is assembled; it only takes a couple minutes to produce an omelet and toast for her. While it’s cooking, I give her juice and tea, and some of our huge stock of berries. She eats this at the island counter, watching me. The omelet is big enough for two, so I cut it in half and serve us both. We eat in silence, very aware of one another’s emotions running just beneath the surface.

Persephone finishes quickly, though not more so than hunger would account for. “Thank you very much, Smush. You were right, I needed that.”

I breathe out my tension, deeply glad that she understands. I don’t want to control her. I just want her to be well. “I have meetings until mid-afternoon, so I can’t make it to lunch today. I packed something for you. Will you promise to eat it all?”

“Okay. You make sure to get a good lunch, too.” 

She closes her eyes for a moment and generates a flower, a pink hydrangea. She hands it to me with a tender smile and I just about melt.

“This is beautiful, Sweetness. Thank you. Try to have a good day?”

“Love you!” She kisses me good-bye, takes her lunch, and goes. 

I sigh deeply. I feel like I nearly set off a time bomb.

***

I endure a parade of underlings and their various reports and requests. I’ve been training Epimelis to schedule these in twenty-minute slots, and told the staff that they need to be extremely efficient with my time. So far, it seems to be working. I suspect Hecate is doing a lot of behind-the-scenes managing. I will have to find a suitable way to reward her when all this is over.

The majority of my time is spent with work no one else can do: judging the dead. I give instructions that we need to streamline, but I find that my words are redundant. Persephone’s reforms have already greatly improved this process, and the staff she selected and trained functions as a well-oiled machine. Kicking their efficiency to a higher gear presents no sort of challenge for them, and we get through dozens of cases in the course of a few hours.

The stories all seem the same. Innocent mortals who died through starvation, cold, and disease. Most of them decent people, with potential. Some at least could have accomplished great things, were their lives not cut short. I permit rebirth for all but a few irredeemables. They’ll have to wait, of course--the rate of rebirth is limited to the number of mortal babies being born.

It’s going to take years to set everything right. Even if Demeter relents now, allows a return of decent weather and a distribution of her hoarded grain, the impact of premature deaths and loss of productivity will continue to hurt the mortals.

I grit my teeth through the last few cases. I need to think of some action I can take. I’ve been accepting the consequences of my mother-in-law’s actions without retaliation. I haven’t wanted to hurt Persephone by acting against someone she cares about. Where is  _ Demeter’s  _ compassion? 

The more I consider, the more my rage grows. Demeter must be fully aware of Persephone's overly-developed sense of responsibility. From innocent comments my wife has made about her experiences growing up, I think her mother cultivated it deliberately. Which, on the face of it, is fine. Too many of our kind are fickle and callous. But to rely on that trait, knowing the pain she's inflicting? It's nothing short of disgusting. To do that to her own daughter, Demeter must have ice in her veins. 

Or--in all fairness--she must believe Persephone's situation is so dire that it's worth destroying all life. Am I really worth all that cruelty? Is being a queen such an awful fate? Who am I kidding, Demeter’s concern is against me personally. She thinks I’m a monster, and I’m starting to return the favor.

When court is over for the day, I write a quick note and send it off with Hermes. We’ll see what I can do to even the score. I plunge into the reports waiting for me, but my expected guest arrives with impressive alacrity. Epimelis shows her in right away, as instructed.

"Ah, Cyane." I rise from my desk. "Come in. Would you care for coffee?"

“Um, thank you, sir. To what do I owe the honor of a personal invitation from you?”

I gesture her to a seat and hand her a cup. The river nymph takes it, but doesn’t drink. She grips it instead, regarding me warily. 

“You gave me the impression that you’re Persephone’s friend. That you would go a long way in order to help her.”

“I would. And more than that, I’d go a long way to poke Demeter in the eye. I’ve had a long time to think about it, and the way she treated me like dirt, just because I got married? It wasn’t right.”

“I know exactly how you feel.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Listen, I’ve asked around with all the nymphs who are staying here. They tell me that they’re being shown great kindness, and moreover, that you treat Persephone well.”

“I do my best. I admit I’m a long way from perfect, but I love her, and I try.”

“That’s all anyone can ask. So why did you ask me here?”

“I wanted to know if you’d be willing to spy on Demeter for me. For us. Naturally I won’t ask you to keep this from Persephone.”

The naiad lets out a long breath. “I’m so glad you asked that. The alternative was… awful to contemplate.”

I know what she means. “I am not my brother. So, will you do it?”

“Certainly I will! Nothing would give me greater delight.”

The nymph’s smile is sharp with anticipation.

***

As it turns out, I can’t even get free in the afternoon. There’s too much work to do, and I’m occupied all day with processing yet another influx of shades. I make sure to be home in time for yoga. This is the only activity Persephone has not abandoned in favor of more work. After the first couple of times watching surreptitiously when her instructor came over, I let myself be talked into joining them. The truth is, I only held off that long to be sure I was welcome.

I've studied yoga before, one of many hobbies I've tried and dropped over my lifetime when it didn't bring the fulfillment I was searching for. It turns out doing this with my beloved wife is a totally different thing. For one thing, I get to watch her moving in tight, stretchy garments. But more than that, it's peaceful. Calming. Something we both need. It gives us a framework for a different kind of touching and togetherness, which we really need right now.

I arrive home and feed the dogs, then change my clothes. The doorbell rings, quite a bit earlier than expected. I go to open it, wondering if the time changed and I forgot. Or maybe it’s nymphs again? I swing the door open. It’s not our instructor, or nymphs. It’s my nephew and his lover, both of them looking sour and upset. My heart sinks. I don’t need this, not again.

“Hasn’t anyone ever taught you two that calling first is polite? Your son seems to get this, why can’t you?”

“We need to speak to you, Uncle Hades. It’s serious,” Ares says. 

"Preferably without any--distractions." Aphrodite adds.

“Fine,” I snap. “You can have five minutes. That’s it.”

I show them into the living room, and stand by the door with my arms folded. I don’t invite them to sit, but Aphrodite does anyway. Of course.

“We won’t waste your time,” Ares says, through clenched teeth. “Zeus is fucking up  _ everything. _ He won’t do anything about Demeter. He’s failed all of us. My sister is flipping out because he’s trying to control her. You need to take over, don’t you see?”

“You let the little sex kitten make up your mind last time,” Aphrodite says, narrowing her eyes. “Maybe you’re done thinking with your dick now?”

“You two have been together how long? Centuries, isn’t it? And you still can’t get that Persephone and I are a team?” I shake my head at them. Their relationship is so strange, and they refuse to give credit to anyone else’s way of forming a partnership.

"Oh, yes, a team. I know what that means." Aphrodite simpers and tosses her hair. "She's got you right where she wants you, huh? You would do anything to get what she's got, right?"

I'm only slightly surprised to hear Persephone’s voice, behind me in the doorway. “Oh, what is this now? More of the lies and nonsense I have to put up with every day, and in my own home?”

“This doesn’t concern you, little miss teen queen,” Aphrodite snaps. “Just go play with your dollies or whatever.”

Ares grimaces in surprise at his girlfriend’s words. 

"What is wrong with you two?” Persephone says. She plants her fists on her hips. “You like to make the mortals fight.  _ You _ do it because you like the fighting itself, and  _ you _ do it because you like being fought over.” She points aggressively at Ares, then at Aphrodite. “And they’re too hungry and cold to bother fighting, to be able to feel love, and the two of you keep prancing around whining that you’re not getting your way! That  _ your _ father is too controlling! That  _ your  _ king has rules! Well boo-freaking-hoo! The rest of us have real problems!"

Aphrodite rolls her head and unleashes a voice like a whip. "I am not taking this from a wet-behind-the-ears--"

_ "I am not done speaking!"  _ Persephone yells, her voice ringing. My tiny Queen. I’m so proud I could burst. "If you want there to still be mortals around for you to practice your ridiculous game on, then you need to get out there and help ensure their survival!" She pauses to glare at each of them and neither dares to respond. “You should go now. Don’t come back until you’re ready to act like adults.”

“Fine!” Aphrodite says, with a stomp of her foot. “I should have known better than to rely on you two straitlaced jerks! I'd put a curse on you, but I can see it would be redundant.”

I show the two of them out of the apartment and manage to restrain my tongue. Persephone said everything necessary. I turn from the door to see her still standing there with her arms folded and her brow wrinkled.

"Are you upset with me, Sweetness?"

"No. I'm tired. I'm going to get ready for yoga."

I watch her go and can't help regretting that I didn't deal with the nuisance before her return. She doesn't need more troubles.

***

The doorbell rings the next evening when I’m in the middle of dinner preparations, but I happen to be between tasks so I go to answer it. I’m slightly surprised to find Zeus waiting in the lobby, poking at his phone as he waits for me to answer the door.

“Hey! You busy?” he asks.

“Yes, but you can come in anyway.”

I lead him back to the kitchen and stir the huge soup pot, then resume chopping vegetables for a salad. 

“So, this place is nice. Right in the thick of things, I guess. You like the access to nightlife?” my brother asks.

“It’s very convenient.” I don’t mention that nightlife isn’t a part of our routine right now. Work and sleep are about all we can handle.

Zeus takes in all the food I’m making, along with the dogs sleeping in their baskets. “Where’s Persephone?” he asks. “Your wife’s already avoiding you?”

I know he’s joking, but it’s not a joke I care for. “My wife is taking care of her responsibilities.”

“Oh, yeah. I see her a lot in the Mortal Realm lately.”

“And what are you doing there?” I wonder if he’s already fallen off the marital fidelity wagon.

“Inspecting. Finding out how much damage Demeter is doing.”

“Quite a bit, it seems.” I grit my teeth. There’s no point in being angry about it, but I can't stop myself.

“I still  _ cannot _ believe she’s got the nerve to pull this shit. If I get my hands on her!”

“You’ll what?” I’m honestly tense about this. I would love to see Demeter taken down a notch or two, but not in a way that will hurt Persephone.

“Yeah. She’s made herself untouchable, having all our worship in the palm of her hand. You know she’s never going to relent?”

I narrow my eyes. “And you suggest I do?”

“No, no. I’m not saying that.”

Zeus is quiet for a minute, sticking his hands in his pockets and whistling aimlessly. “So I guess Persephone jumped right into taking over your house, huh? What is it with women and redecorating? They gotta mark their territory?”

I set down my knife and look at him. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Assume that relationships have to be adversarial. That isn't how Persephone and I work. I'm the one who pushed ahead on the house renovations. I wanted a break with the past but I'm afraid now I didn't give her enough time to adjust and find her balance.”

“Oh,” my brother replies, looking faintly surprised. “Well, you could always do it again in a few years, it’s not like you don't have the money.”

“That's true.”

“And it's a gesture. Like you said, a break with the past.”

I nod. “That’s what I tell myself.”

“You must really think I'm an ass,” he says.

“Sometimes, yes.” He gives me an annoyed look and I shrug. “Well, you asked.”

“Sorry. I'm… trying, I really am. Being vulnerable  _ sucks.” _

“Yes. It can, but I’ll tell you what I've learned. It's the only way to get to the really good stuff.”

“And what is that? Please tell me. I need a reason to keep going.”

“Trust. Mutual dependence. Knowing your needs matter to another person.”

“Oh.”

“I'll tell you I've tried just about every form of intoxicant there is and I've never had anything to match it.”

“That sounds… kind of terrifying, actually.”

I shrug. “I suppose it's not for everyone. So how are things going, with your new arrangement?”

He looks away. “Fine.” Not a single further detail, when he used to be so eager to brag to me about his mistresses. Is he actually embarrassed about this? I can’t imagine why he would be. “My idiot son is all pissed. He can’t even listen when Hera tells him she’s fine with it.”

“Oh, really?” I don’t let on that I already know about Ares’s discontent. “I suppose he’s been upset so long that he’ll take any excuse.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ve been thinking, Aphrodite’s a bad influence on him. I really should separate them.”

_ That’s _ a recipe for insurrection. “How would you do that?”

He shrugs. “Get one or both of them married, I guess.”

“Is forcing people into marriage your answer to everything? Why not just let them find their own happiness?”

“Oh, look who’s all about choice now! Fact is, brother, you’re a hypocrite.”

“I’m aware of that, but choice is important. If Persephone didn’t want to be with me, she wouldn’t be. I would never force her.”

“Uh huh. Does she know how long you wanted her? How you plotted to take her as your bride?”

“I did not plot! Listening to your ludicrous schemes doesn’t constitute plotting.”

“Whatever you say. Just don’t try to pretend you’re better than me. You have your secrets, too.”

“I don’t keep secrets from my wife. Not on purpose, at least.”

“You can't be married and not have secrets,” my brother asserts, as if everyone knows this.

“Really?” I don’t bother to conceal my contempt.

“Yeah, really.” Zeus rolls his eyes at my naiveté. “Anyway Hera and I have been talking about it, and we kind of like it that way.”

“And you’re okay with Hera having secrets from you?”

“Well, I’m working on being okay with it.”

“Huh.” I don’t know what to say to that. At least he’s recognizing his limitations and trying to work on them.

I finish the salad and go to stir the soup. I’m thinking I should check the casserole in the oven when I hear Eros’s voice in the hall.

“Hey, I’m here! I brought the baked goods!”

The dogs wuff and trot off to inspect him, without any malice. They’re used to Eros by now.

“In here!” I call.

He comes in with his arms full of bags and the dogs surrounding him, sniffing with great interest.

“Oh, hi Grandpa. Nice to see you. How’s your new boytoy?”

“Excuse me?” Zeus actually sounds offended. As if everyone didn’t guess  _ immediately. _

“Oh, I’m sorry, your new  _ assistant. _ ”

His face looks like he’s been sucking on a lemon. I resist the urge to laugh.

“Fine,” Zeus replies. “You two planning a party or something?”

“Nah, Hades and me, we’re the soul squad support staff,” Eros says.

“Soul squad?”

“Well, that’s what I call it. Psyche and Persephone, and Eileithyia and sometimes Artemis and a few others. Out there helping mortal souls. So they come home really hungry and we feed them.”

“Oh yeah? Does Hermes hang out with this group, too?”

“Sometimes,” I say cautiously. He hasn’t given up this idea of marrying Hermes to Eileithyia?

Eros goes to set the table, dragging Zeus along with him. I unpack the bakery bags, separating the bread from the desserts. I hear voices in the hall, mostly women’s, one of them definitely Persephone. I set down the knife I picked up to slice bread, wipe my hands, and go out to greet the arrivals.

Persephone is standing in the center of her friends: the Furies, Psyche, Eileithyia, Artemis, Hermes, and that new guy Iakchos, looking wide-eyed around our apartment. 

“Hello, everyone. Dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you get some drinks in the kitchen?”

Psyche smiles at me and leads the others. She already knows where everything is. Persephone slides into my arms. She feels a little chilly and damp, but it seems she’s doing a better job taking care of herself. 

“Welcome home, Sweetness. I’ve missed you. I made  _ fasolada. _ ” She really likes soups, and it’s easy to make enough for a crowd. Leftovers will be useful, too. If nothing else I can send them to Eleusis.

“Oh, yummy! Missed you, too, Smush. I’m gonna go change.”

I kiss her and let her go off to the bedroom, smiling as I notice several of the dogs following her. I turn to go back to the kitchen, and catch my brother watching, with a big, stupid grin on his face. 

“She calls you  _ Smush? _ ” he crows, his tone exultant.

“Yeah. What does Hera call  _ you? _ ”

I can’t help feeling a little smug at the expression on his face. I pour Persephone’s tea, then take the casserole out and place it on the table. Eros is already serving the soup.

Persephone enters the kitchen, wearing one of my hoodies and a pair of leggings with cavorting pink cartoon dogs all over them. I smile when I see her looking so cute and warm. I hand her the tea I prepared for her and she beams at me, her eyes hooded with fatigue.

“It’s the spicy cinnamon kind,” I tell her, though I know she can smell it.

She nods and sips the tea. “Thank you, Hades. You take such good care of me.”

***

Zeus lingers after all the others have gone. Even after Persephone yawns and stretches, making a show of it, and says good night. Even after I’ve finished putting all the leftovers away and washed every dish.

“Something on your mind?” I ask. I might as well address whatever this is, if I’m ever going to get rid of him.

“I wanted to know if you have any thoughts about fixing this damned Demeter situation.” He eyes me cautiously, pretending he’s looking away.

“Not at the moment. Believe me, it’s the top of my list.”

“Just making sure. I mean, accelerating the deaths of mortals wouldn’t necessarily seem like a problem to you.”

I have to concede, this is a fair shot. “It’s a problem to Persephone, so it’s a problem to me. We’re pursuing a number of potential solutions. I would request that you not take drastic action.”

“What drastic action? Demeter has us over a barrel. If all the mortals die, there’ll be no more worship!”

And what of it? We all lived without it before the mortal race was created. I’ve lived without it my entire life. My brother is truly a spoiled degenerate. I can’t fault Demeter’s reasoning there.

“She can’t want them all dead, any more than you do.”

A look of horror crosses Zeus’s face. “You don’t suppose the two of them planned this, do you? Persephone and her mother? To put themselves in charge?”

He’s dangerously close to guessing Demeter’s original plan. “No. Not a chance.”

Zeus sighs. “No, I suppose not. She had her chance; she could have chosen not to heal me.”

I nod, encouraging this line of thought. “Yes. Once she figured out Thetis’s plan, she didn’t even hesitate. Although she had a right to be frightened, given the way you treated her.”

“I apologized for that! You caught yourself a good one, and I shouldn’t doubt her.”

For some reason I’m ridiculously pleased by this very moderate praise. “I understand that you’re frustrated. I’m very nervous about the way things are going, too, but I think there are worthy strategies to pursue. The rest of us are really pulling together, and making a difference for the mortals.”

“Yeah, that’s what Hera and Athena tell me. Anyway, I gotta go.”

After my brother leaves, I head to the bedroom. Persephone seems to be asleep, so I undress quickly, leaving my clothes on a chair rather than make noise putting things away. I slide in next to her and I’m surprised to find she’s naked. She rolls over immediately and snuggles up to me.

“I was starting to wonder what happened to you,” she murmurs. 

Her hand slides downs my belly and directly into my briefs. I flinch away.

“No, Kore--it’s okay. You need your rest.” I’m afraid of what will happen if I let her touch me like that. She’s so overworked, it’s too much to ask for her to put up with my neediness, as well. 

Persephone sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest protectively. It’s hard to tell in the dark but I think she’s upset.

“I need to know something,” she says. Her voice is tightly controlled. “That night I tied you up and you couldn’t speak, did I break you?”

_ “Break _ me?” I’m shocked by this idea.

“Things haven’t been the same since then!”

“Not because of that, Sweetness. I promise. You’re working so hard, and you look so sad and tired, and I feel so awful--”

“Eros asked me tonight if everything is okay with us. I guess he could feel that--that we're not--”

I swallow hard. It hurts to realize that our friend knows how difficult things have been. 

“It’s--those things your mother is saying. About us. About me.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry, Hades. I didn’t tell you. Her stupid story keeps getting worse and I didn’t want to repeat those filthy lies!” She's nearly in tears. Lately it seems Persephone is frequently close to tears.

“Of course you didn’t! It’s all right. I completely understand why you wouldn’t want to dwell on that idea. This is why you’re so determined to get a different story out there, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I guess so. And you’re sure I didn’t break you?”

“No. Definitely not! That night was incredibly wonderful, the best birthday present I ever received. I just couldn’t bring myself to talk, for some reason. I think I'm working something out. That isn’t your fault.” I really didn’t mean to talk about this. It’s past trauma that I don’t want to relive, or burden Persephone with. “If I...if I promise to discuss it with my therapist, will that be okay?”

“Yes. I can live with that.” She snuggles into my shoulder, relaxing somewhat. “I’ve decided, I’m taking tomorrow off.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And so are you. We’re going to stay home and turn off our phones.”

This is very tempting, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea. The amount of problems that will pile up in her absence will doubtless give her a crushing blow of guilt. On the other hand--she wants to make me a priority. How can I say no to that? 

“Okay. But I have conditions. There’s no pressure. For anything. We relax and do what we feel like doing, not what we think we  _ should _ be doing.”

Persephone is perceptive. She knows what I mean. After a long moment, she nods. “You’re right. It’s hard to get back to something when it hasn’t been working right. No pressure.”

“Can I give you a backrub? I’d love to help you relax.” Honestly, I’m surprised she’s not already asleep. 

“That would be great.”

She rolls over and I sit up so I can work on her. I start slow with gentle strokes, identifying points of tension. I begin kneading, leaning my weight into it. I’ve learned by now that Persephone can tolerate very intense massage, if I give her time to warm up first. It’s a pleasure to touch her, even without any sort of selfish goal in mind. She sighs and melts under my hands. I feel some of her tension dissipating. 

“Better?” I ask.

“Mm-hm.”

“Sorry about my brother. I didn’t invite him, and when he showed up I guess I should have set some boundaries.”

“That’s okay. I’m glad for you to have company when I can’t be here.”

“It’s funny how you’re always concerned that I spend too much time alone, and I’m always trying to leave you be, so you don’t get sick of me.”

Persephone raises her head and looks over her shoulder at me.

“Why do you keep assuming I’m going to get tired of you?”

“Oh.” I have to think about it. I suppose it’s because that’s what has happened in the past. “I just mean if you need a break, I get it. I know I can be very demanding, and it must get frustrating--”

“ _ Agh! _ Can you hear yourself?” She leaps up and pushes me down into the bed, leaning over me with her hands on my shoulders. She uses her weight to pin me down and I let her, holding up my hands in surrender. Her eyes pierce mine with intense fire. “I am  _ not _ tired of you! I am not going to  _ get _ tired of you. The only thing I find frustrating is that you keep telling me I should be! Okay?”

“Okay,” I reply meekly. “Sorry.”

She sits back on her heels and watches me warily for a minute. “I love you, Hades. I know you know that, but sometimes you don’t really  _ believe _ it.”

“You’ve given me every reason to believe it. I’m sorry sometimes I can’t--”

“Stop apologizing! You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I’m not?”

“No. My sweet darling Smush, you think I can’t see all the scars on you? Not the ones on your skin, but the ones left on your soul? I know you’ve been through painful things. I know you’ve been treated terribly for a very long time. It’s fine if you need time to recover. It's fine if you can't talk sometimes, or you need to talk to someone other than me. We’ve been through so much and yet it hasn’t been very much time at all. You are incredibly patient with me, so please, spare a little more patience for yourself.”

I can barely breathe after hearing that. “Kore, I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything. Just try to believe in us.”

“I do! I promise I do.”

She puts her hand to her head and sighs deeply. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m very sensitive right now, and I probably overreacted. I hate the things people are saying about us. I hate their assumptions and their pity and their gossip!”

Her voice cracks over her last words, and the tears well up from her eyes. I ache for her. I wish so much I could take more of her burden.

“Why can’t someone else fix the mortals? Why is it my responsibility?” she gasps, wiping the tears away.

“I know, Sweetness. This is what it means to have powers like we do. Sometimes the responsibility is crushing.”

She nods, and swallows, trying not to cry anymore. “I need to spend less time there. More time with you. Not just tomorrow, but in general. I can’t keep doing this!”

“I know, Sweetness. Don't make any decisions now. Let's just sleep.”

She curls up with me again, clutching me tight. It’s a long time before she relaxes and her breathing evens out. I hold her the whole time, stroking her hair lightly. When I’m sure she’s finally asleep, I start to let go of my own control, and think about my feelings.

***

The doorbell rings, first thing in the morning again. I stomp to the door, grumbling. The dogs by now have stopped bothering to respond; why can’t the nymphs learn similarly? I swing the door open, hoping I can stay polite.

It’s not nymphs. It’s my niece and Hermes.

“Hi, Uncle Hades,” Eileithyia says. “Um, we kinda did something  _ really _ bad.”

"Great. And early morning is the perfect time to deliver  _ really bad _ news?"

"Sorry. Boss! We didn't know what else to do!" Hermes is on the edge of panic, his voice loud and high-pitched.

"Quiet! People are still sleeping!" I snarl. And this is supposed to be our day off!

I hear the slap of Persephone’s bare feet moments before she appears in the entry hall. “How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t want any more berries-- Oh!” 

She’s wearing only the shirt that I took off last night, unbuttoned, wrapped around her like a robe. Hermes and Eileithyia goggle at her, though I don’t know why. It’s not weird for her to wear my shirt!

“How about I make some coffee?” I offer, as a distraction and a stalling tactic. “Some tea for you, Sweetness?”

“Yes. Thanks. I’ll be right there.”

She makes her escape to the bedroom and I lead our guests to the kitchen. 

In a few minutes, everyone is sitting at the kitchen table with a hot beverage. This time Persephone is wearing her robe, tightly-belted, the armor protecting her dignity. 

"So why are you here?" I am very tired of random relatives showing up with demands. I care for my niece and have a high opinion of her, or I'd throw these two out.

"Okay, so you know how my father keeps harping on this idea of us getting married? So yesterday he said what we really need is to go on a few dates so we can get to know each other."

"That's… almost a reasonable idea," I comment.

"Except they don't  _ want _ to get married. They already made up their minds," Persephone says, her mouth firming.

"Yeah, exactly, Perse," Hermes says. "So last night we, uh, we…"

"We got pretty drunk and then we accidentally burned down one of Dad's temples," Eileithyia blurts.

"Yeah, that." Hermes nods. "We were kinda hoping you guys might help us out?"

I'm trying to frame a proportionate response but Persephone beats me to it. 

"You have got to be kidding me!" She slaps the table and leans forward, glaring at our visitors. "We're trying to salvage some portion of the mortal race, and you two have to run off and do this selfish and irresponsible thing? When all he asked was for you to go on a date?"

“I know!” Eileithyia says, drooping with misery.

“Just what is it you were hoping we would do for you? Because there will be consequences, you know.” I drink my coffee rather than say more.

Eileithyia and Hermes exchange a look. 

“I  _ told _ you we should just run away,” Hermes says.

The golden goddess scowls. “ _ You’re _ free to do so.  _ I _ have responsibilities!”

“Yes.” Persephone says. “And your first responsibility is to go to your father and confess. Because if you don’t, he’ll take it out on someone. Someone who  _ doesn’t _ deserve it.”

“I can’t do that, Perse! I’m gonna get demoted!” Hermes squawks.

“Demoted from what? Being an Olympian?” Her eyes are growing redder and her face is set like stone. Hermes does not catch on.

“Yeah! That’s like the best thing I have going for me, I can’t lose it! Why are you being so mean?”

“That isn’t fair!” Eileithyia snaps. “Persephone’s right, we did it and we have to own up to it. And maybe this will make my dad see that we’re not a good match.”

I sit silently and watch the interplay between the three younger gods. It’s clear to me that Hermes expected his longtime friendship with Persephone to make her sympathetic to his plight. And she  _ is _ sympathetic, but not to the extent of condoning property damage. He doesn’t understand how serious she is about her duties as queen.

I’ve never seen Hermes lose his temper, but he does now. “Yeah, you’re his daughter, worst case he yells at you. I could end up chained to a rock!” 

“That’s my worst case, is it? You don’t see marriage to a selfish twit as a worst case, do you?”

“ _ I’m _ a selfish twit? Whose idea was it to sneak into his temple, huh?”

Listening to the two of them argue, Persephone’s expression grows more and more cold. She’s right to feel that way, but it gives me a twinge to see. Circumstances are hardening her, stealing her carefree joy. I love that she can be adamant when necessary, but the balance is way off. This is my fault. I’ve taken a lovely, sweet butterfly and crushed the life out of her with unwanted burdens.

“Enough!” Persephone yells. “Go home and figure out your own problems! I’ve got enough to do without babysitting people who ought to know better.”

She rises from her seat and stomps off toward the bedroom. I raise my eyebrows at the visitors, and they finally take the hint.

***

For some reason, I feel the need to talk things over with my mother. The past few months I’ve been visiting her regularly, sometimes with Persephone and sometimes on my own. It’s a dramatic change from centuries of avoiding her out of guilt and hurt feelings. 

The long transfer gives me a few moments to collect my thoughts. When I step out of the Narrow Spaces, I’m unsurprised to find Mother sitting at her garden table, reading a book, as if waiting for me.

“Hello, my darling son,” she says. “How wonderful to see you!”

She accepts a kiss on the cheek and gestures for me to sit. 

“Mother. I need to talk with you, about guilt and complicity. About making hard decisions.”

She nods slowly. I know that others visit her, too. Likely she knows a lot about recent events. “Of course. I’m happy to help.”

I sit in silence for a few minutes, brooding. Now that I’m here I don’t quite know what to say. “What was Father like when you first knew him? Were you in love with him?”

“I was. Does that surprise you, my son?”

“No.” It does, though. I only ever knew him when he was terrifying. Does this mean I could turn out that way, too?

“I was young, and foolish. Younger than your Persephone, and far more of a fool.” She pauses. “What you’re thinking right now? You’re wrong. You are not doomed to repeat the past.”

I’m jolted by her insight. It’s very disconcerting that she can still read me so easily.

She continues. “To answer your other question: he was young, too, and just as much as a fool. And a braggart. And beautiful.”

“Maybe we immortals aren’t cut out for marriage. Look at Gaia and Ouranos, and you and Father, and Zeus and Hera.”

“Look at Poseidon and Amphitrite.”

I shrug. This doesn’t really help. Statistically, how likely is it that  _ two _ of Kronos’s sons could form successful relationships?

“My darling son. The Fates have fulfilled your every wish, at long last. Did you suppose that would come easily?”

“Not really. I just thought the price would be less than it is.”

“You are mistaken. It’s not a price. It’s a test. One that most of us fail.”

This is a glimmer of hope I don’t dare to cherish. “ _ Why _ do most fail?”

“I think our kind is too selfish and conceited, for the most part. Kronos tempted Fate by insisting on having children with me. I think he hoped for daughters, or perhaps he simply wouldn’t be intimidated by the prophecy. He had to prove himself.”

“That was his test?”

“Perhaps.”

“Demeter is acting like I’m a monster. Like I’m the worst possible thing that could have happened to Persephone.” I barely whisper this confession. My temples throb with pain.

She purses her lips in thought. “Metis created her about the same time I had Poseidon. Kronos bonded with her. She was a substitute, I think. Their natures are so similar. When she finally saw him for what he was, it was a terrible shock.”

“So she assumes I’m like him?”

Mother tilts her head. “You were so damaged, my darling. I did what I could for you when you came back, but you lost all that time most people get to learn to be a person. You were robbed of your childhood.”

“I know I’m damaged. I know I’m a monster.”

“I didn’t say that! You did learn. It took a long time, but you have brought yourself back through your own efforts. Don’t mistake me, my son. We all have the potential to be monsters. You could  _ easily _ have turned in that direction, but you didn’t. You have a generous heart. It’s not your fault Demeter couldn’t see your growth for what it was.”

Is it that simple? She thinks I’m faking everything I’ve learned in two millennia? That I’m still that broken, angry teenager underneath my veneer?

“Others had it easy, in comparison to you,” Mother goes on. “Zeus, of course, and all Metis’s daughters. They didn’t have to fight a war  _ and _ fight their pasts at the same time. You did, my sweet boy. I always thought you were incredibly brave.”

“I only did what I had to do.”

“It pains me to see you hurting so much. Persephone seems like such a lovely young woman. Are you not happy after all?”

“Persephone--she’s the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. In a lifetime of slights and digs and outright contempt. I don’t know why I thought that things could actually change for me.”

“Stop that self-pity, right this instant!” Mother says, startling me. I watch her warily, but she moderates her tone before continuing. “You’re quite right you’ve been treated unfairly, so when did you stop caring? It’s your right to be treated as well as anyone else. It’s your right to find all the happiness you can!”

I shrug. “I don’t think it works like that, Mother. People expect me to accept the least of the rewards. People expect me to make sacrifices for others’ benefit. Demeter wants Persephone back, and she’s not going to give up. She’ll kill all the mortals to get what she wants, and I’m very afraid that Zeus is going to capitulate.”

She pauses a long time. “You don’t have to obey your little brother.”

“If all the mortals die, Persephone will never forgive herself. She cares about them. I’ve never seen anything like it in any immortal. It’s rubbing off on me, Mother.”

“You expect me to lament your new compassion, my son?”

“No. But it’s very inconvenient. I wish I didn’t care. If I don’t do something--I’m afraid the guilt will warp Persephone permanently. She was _so_ happy. So full of joy and energy and life. How can she get that back, knowing they all died for her?”

“My son, I don’t know how to solve your problem, but I have a small piece of advice. Sometimes you have to accept a setback, because it’s the only way forward. That doesn’t mean that what you give up is permanently gone. We  _ are _ immortal, after all.”

My throat is hot and tight. I know exactly what my mother means. She had her children torn from her, but that sacrifice firmed her resolve. It showed her the way forward, the only path out of the darkness. Even if it meant that when we were finally returned to her, we were forever altered. Damaged. Tainted. Alienated.

I don’t think I have the courage to do voluntarily what my mother was forced into.

***

We have yet another appointment to show up in our stiff, formal clothes for this damned portrait. At least this session, we’ll be alone with Psyche most of the time and don’t have to put on a show or talk with the others. Most of the afternoon, Persephone and I stand there, barely touching, in our pose that seemed so right at first and now feels weirdly unnatural.

Persephone is spending this time rehearsing the lecture that she’s giving at the University in a few days. Psyche laughed when Persephone asked to put her laptop on a chair where she could see it, but agreed. It’s not in the way, I guess. In the hand that’s hidden by her body, my wife holds a remote which she uses to advance her presentation. 

The slides on the laptop are apparently all the prompting she needs to remember what to say. Some of them are photos of Elysium, while others are highly technical charts and formulas. Over the course of the afternoon I hear the lecture approximately fourteen times through. It doesn’t vary much, except Persephone seems to get more comfortable with each iteration.

Finally she sighs and glances up at me. “You’ve been incredibly patient,” she says. “Both of you. I’m sorry I’m all on edge about this.”

“It’s fine! It’s been a while since you’ve done any public speaking,” I reply.

“I could not do what you are doing! I do not mind if you want to practice. Your voice is very pleasant,” Psyche says, dabbing away at her canvas.

Persephone’s mouth twitches before she returns to her pose. “I don’t really understand why they asked me, but I want to get this right.”

I squeeze her elbow gently. “Of course you do. You have high standards.”

Psyche smiles at her canvas. We all subside into silence, and in a few minutes, we hear voices in the hall. Poseidon and Amphitrite file in, wearing their own finery. 

“Oh, good, you are here,” Psyche says. She puts down her brush to help my brother and sister-in-law find their positions. There are tape marks on the floor reminding them where to stand, and as veteran portrait-sitters, they know what to do.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” Amphitrite says, once Psyche’s quiet painting resumes. “I have a bit of news to report. About what you wanted me to look into?”

“Oh, that object of my mother’s?” Persephone says. She can’t turn her head to look at Amphitrite. 

“What object is that?” I ask.

“I was told that my mother used to have a magical thing that generated food, something called Cornucopia. And Arion told me he stole it and threw it into the Sea,” Persephone explains.

“Oh.” I’ve never heard anything about it, but it’s not surprising. Magical objects used to be very common. Many of them seem to be lost now.

Amphitrite’s voice goes on. “Anyway, I assigned the job of investigating to Triton, and just before we were leaving to come here, he called. He says that some nymph found it and kept it for a while, then eventually traded it away to someone else.”

“Someone who?” Poseidon asks. “That’s not very specific.”

“That’s what I told him, baby,” Amphitrite says. “He’s going to ask some more questions.”

“Well, thank you,” Persephone says. “I really appreciate this.”

I hope she’s not wasting time on a fantasy. Finding an object that makes food would be extremely useful, certainly, but if this thing ever existed it might well be permanently lost.

***

Persephone is very nervous about her lecture, and on the drive to Olympus she babbles on and on about any available topic, including her opinions on tweaks to the shade retraining program, how seed propagation works, and all the details Hera spilled about her new “assistant.”

“So, for real, that Ganymedes guy is sleeping with both of them?” I ask.

“Yup.” She’s blushing quite deeply. She glances at me and seems compelled to keep talking despite her embarrassment. “I could not get Hera to shut up about it, she’s so ecstatic. Naturally Amphitrite encouraged her.”

“Naturally.”

“I can’t say I really get it, but I guess they’re all content.”

“It’s certainly not something I expected Zeus would ever agree to.”

“Well, apparently, he’s quite happy with his end of the bargain. From what she said.”

“I couldn’t get him to say a single thing about it, the other night.” Not that I really tried, but Eros did.

“Do you think all this is intended to be a replacement for his cheating, or as some way to redress the balance?” she asks.

I think that over. “No idea. Those two are incomprehensible to me.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I’ve already hinted that if she wants an unorthodox arrangement between us, I would be willing to explore it. I shouldn’t go there again--she might think that I’m the one seeking changes, when I’m not. I’m deeply happy with what we have. My only goal is to make certain that Persephone is, too.

When we arrive at the University, Persephone is whisked away by technicians, to make sure the microphone and slide setup meets her needs. I'm left with the Chancellor, who beams at me. Clearly angling for a donation. I'm prepared for this, and cheerfully misunderstand his hints, while asking pointed questions about results on the research projects into agriculture that Persephone recently funded. I heavily imply that quick results may prove lucrative for him.

Hecate strides up before the gloves can come off. "They want us to take our seats," she says. "Her Majesty would like to start on time."

"Certainly." I allow myself to be ushered into the lecture hall, a showplace of sleek architecture clearly reserved for events like this, rather than educating grubby undergraduates.

Hecate and I have seats at front row center. Persephone is sitting at the back of the small stage, chatting with various academics. She spots me and gives a tiny smile and wave. The Chancellor takes the podium, waiting for the audience's attention so he can introduce my wife. 

Hecate scans the crowd behind us and gives a sudden hiss of distress. "Dammit. Don't look, but Demeter is here."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"She's all the way at the back." Hecate takes out her phone and begins tapping. "I'll inform the Furies and make sure she doesn't approach. Should we tell Persephone?"

"I think it's too late. We'll tell her after."

The lights are dimming and the Chancellor greets the packed hall, then begins an introduction that is only mildly groveling. Persephone wears a fixed smile. I can see how uncomfortable she is, but she's learning to cope with public scrutiny remarkably well. I hope Demeter is proud of her. I am, and I really have no right to be.

"Without further ado, Her Chthonic Majesty, Persephone, Goddess of Spring!" crows the Chancellor.

The audience applauds politely while Persephone stands, smiles, and shakes the Chancellor's hand. She says a few words to him, then takes his place at the podium and waits for quiet.

"Thank you. Good evening, gentle beings. Tonight I will outline for you the principles of creating and maintaining closed environmental systems, specifically as they relate to the sub-domain known as Elysium. If I can direct your attention to the first slide--"

***

She's brilliant, just as I knew she would be. I don't understand half of what she's saying, even though I was part of many of the design, logistical, and budgetary decisions that Persephone describes. She discusses all of the ideas she synthesized in order to create the unprecedented and exquisitely beautiful place that is an ornament to our realm. 

I've heard this material through dozens of rehearsals, so I'm free to admire Persephone's performance instead. She has the audience in the palm of her hand, and by the time she reaches the third slide, she knows it. She relaxes, her shoulders drop, and she smiles. From time to time she ad-libs a joke.

When she finishes, the applause is lengthy and enthusiastic. The people came here to see a pretty goddess, and they did. They also got to see how ingenious she is.

As the clapping tapers off, a number of people move up to the dais to try to speak to Persephone. I turn instead and look to the back of the room. Sure enough, Demeter is there in the last row. She notices my eyes upon her and gives me a horrid scowl before turning and going out the rear exit.

"I'm going to speak to her," I tell Hecate. "You can tell Persephone when she's done."

"Right. Good luck."

***

Demeter must be moving fast through the halls of the University, or perhaps she transferred away. I wander for some minutes without finding her, and I’m almost ready to give up. I turn a corner and stop short. Demeter is there. She's staring at a huge vividly-colored mural. I recognize it from photographs, though they didn't do it justice. It's Psyche's latest creation,  _ The Foundation of Olympus.  _

Zeus is at the center, beaming and gesturing expansively at the buildings being constructed around him. Gazing at him with varying expressions of admiration are Hera, Hestia, and Poseidon. And Demeter. And me. Psyche has placed our images at opposite sides of the mural, figures of equal size, giving it balance and tension. I think I understand what she's trying to say. I'll have to ask her.

"Hello, Demeter." 

I keep my voice low and calm. I know my anger with her is justified but I have to control it.

"I knew you couldn't resist," she says, without looking at me. She’s still staring at the mural. "Did you come to gloat over what you have stolen and I have lost?"

"No. I came to ask if you would like to come visit the Underworld. I'm sure you would like to spend time with your daughter."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you! Yet another prisoner under your power?"

"I said a  _ visit _ , and I meant it!"

"Let my daughter go, that's all I want from you."

"She goes where she pleases, as I'm sure your sources tell you. She's my wife, not my prisoner."

"I've heard all about how she goes out with the Furies following her! Do you think I'm a fool? You may allow her a long leash but she's still bound to you!"

I suppose it would look like that to her. There's little I can say if Demeter is determined to twist everything.

“Why are you killing all the mortals? You’re torturing her!” I snarl.

“I’m not the one keeping her in the dark, literally!” Demeter throws back. She folds her arms and leans forward aggressively.

“You kept her in the dark most of her life! Persephone is perfectly capable of making her own choices, including where she wants to be and with whom. She is also capable of making changes in her environment when she wants them.”

“How dare you tell me about my own daughter! I know her better than you ever could!”

“Then why on Earth did you try to force her to be an eternal maiden? Have you any idea how miserable that made her?”

“You disgusting ass! Women exist for more than your pleasure!” Demeter spits. She makes a wild gesture with one hand, her hand curled like a claw.

“I am not Zeus, need I remind you? I’m talking about  _ you _ trying to suppress Persephone’s very nature! Don’t you know how that affected her, or were you too selfish to see it?”

“How  _ dare _ you! Everything I’ve done has been for my daughter, to shelter her from pigs like you! You’re not fit to be married to anyone, let alone a girl as pure and sweet as she is.”

“What the hell have I ever done--”

“You think I’ve forgotten how brutal you are? The things you did to your father?”

“What about it? Have you forgotten what he did to  _ me? _ You always were a Titan sympathizer.”

“Just because I wanted to use less severe tactics? Do you think I can’t see how you’ve lied and manipulated an innocent girl to get what you wanted? How can you even look at yourself, you monster! You rapist!”

There it is. That accusation she keeps implying, that she keeps hurling out as if it’s a magic incantation to banish me back to the depths of my exile. As if by Demeter’s saying the word Persephone will wake from a fog of confusion and run to her mother’s side. 

I don’t know how to reply. Demeter knows me better than this, or she ought to. Just her saying such a weighty thing implies that it’s true. Trying to argue with her would only make me look guilty.

“Hello, Mother.” Persephone’s voice is soft and flat, conveying her deep ambivalence where her mother is concerned. 

Demeter and I both freeze, and turn to watch the younger goddess approach from the end of the corridor. She’s moving slowly, her hands by her sides, heels clicking loudly on the tile floor. Persephone decided a crown was too formal for tonight, but she’s wearing a number of diamonds that I made for her and she’s every inch a queen.

“So, you decided to send a spy against me.” Persephone folds her arms, slowly, one over the other. She knows she has our full attention, and she makes her mother wait. “Did you suppose that since I’ve embraced my nature, that I would be easily seduced?”

Demeter replies with earnest passion. “No, of course not, darling! I merely wanted to reach out to you.”

“Oh, I see. So I misinterpreted events, and Triptolemus was actually your  _ ambassador. _ ”

Demeter finally realizes the shaky ground she’s on. Persephone has her neatly trapped. Her eyes dart around for a few moments while she tries to think of a disarming response.

“The intention was to show you that you can have everything you need to thrive, up on the surface, where you belong! I am willing to admit I was wrong to push you into eternal maidenhood. If you don’t care for Triptolemus, we can find another god for you. Someone suitable.”

“Someone  _ suitable, _ ” Persephone repeats. 

Her eyes are red, and red thorns begin to twist through her hair. Her natural crown, the one she gives herself. She meets my eyes for a long moment, letting me feel her disgust for her mother’s offer. 

I don’t speak. This is her show. Her decision to make. Demeter is not entirely wrong to say that I’m not suitable as the mate of a lovely young goddess. I’ve been monumentally selfish and short-sighted. If Persephone wants to go, I won’t try to stop her.

“You haven’t the _ least _ understanding of what suits me, Mother,” Persephone says. Her voice is calm and rings with contempt. “You hardly know who I am, as you’ve proven many times. I can’t completely blame you for that. I hid a lot of myself from you, out of fear of what you’d say. And I’ve changed a lot since we’ve been apart. If we’re ever going to have a relationship again, you need to acknowledge that I’m an adult, and that I’ve grown.”

“Of course you have, darling--”

“No, stop. I can’t even begin to say how disappointed I am in you. I’ve heard enough of your exaggerations and delusions and filthy accusations tonight. You can speak to me again when you stop killing mortals out of pettiness.” She stares down Demeter, who gapes in shock, then shifts her gaze to me. “I’m ready to go home. Are you coming, Hades?”

“Yes, of course.” 

I step forward and Persephone reaches out her hand. I tuck it into the crook of my elbow, gentle and formal, letting Demeter see. Letting her witness the respect I have for my beloved wife and queen. We turn together and leave the building, aware of the eyes upon us.

***

Persephone is silent most of the way home but when the apartment door closes behind us, she turns to me and lets her self-discipline fall away like shards at her feet.

“I need you. I need you  _ right now. _ I know things are weird, I know it’s difficult, I know you feel guilty and I am too, but I can’t go on anymore without you!”

“Hush, don’t cry. Come here, little goddess.” I kiss her cheeks, capturing the tears that escaped despite her control. “I love you so much. I would do anything for you, you know that, don’t you?”

She nods, the tears flowing fast now. Her mouth is trembling and I can see she’s going to lose her composure altogether. I bend and scoop her up in my arms, turn and carry her to our bedroom. 

“ _ You _ are what I want, you know that, right? You are everything to me, everything I was never even able to imagine!” Her voice is shaking with suppressed emotion.

“I know, Sweetness. I know.”

Persephone nearly frantic by the time I set her down on the bed. Her hands fly to pull my clothes from my body; her mouth is everywhere, aggressive and demanding. I don't exactly mind--I get how frustration and misery can translate into sexual hunger, and I'd far rather she took that out on me than bottled it up. She has given me so much, if she wants to take from me for a while she’s more than welcome.

Still, it's an odd feeling, a detachment I'm not used to feeling from her. Mechanically, everything goes as it’s supposed to, and yet, we can't quite sync up. Every caress feels a little off, every kiss slightly miscalibrated. What we usually manage to achieve is quite profound, one way or another. This time it’s fast, perfunctory, barely more meaningful than masturbation. I feel terrible, like I've failed her. If I can't even give her this, what use am I?

Afterward she curls against my shoulder, soft and warm, her face hidden against my chest. She doesn’t say anything for a long time and I wonder if she dozed off. If so, at least I accomplished that much. I start to relax myself, and then I realize she’s quivering. I feel a horrid cold wave of devastation.

“I’m sorry, Sweetness! I’m so sorry, I can do better!”

“No! I’m not crying, not this time. I’m just so relieved!”

“You’re relieved?” Seriously,  _ that _ was not sex that relieves. That was sex that leaves one frustrated and mired in self-recrimination.

She nods. “We’re not broken! We’re going to be okay.” She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me tight.

I hug her back, without a second thought. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t know she felt that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Red for awesome beta work, as always.
> 
> Thank you to all my dear fandom friends who have been my raft in this stormy sea we're all enduring.
> 
> Follow VerdiWithin on Twitter for news & previews.


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